


Dreams of reality

by mee4ever



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Watches Dean Winchester Sleep, Dreams, Dreams vs. Reality, First Kiss, I hate tags, M/M, Sleepiness, castiel despises him, dean have a sleeping buddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8295092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mee4ever/pseuds/mee4ever
Summary: The pang of… yeah, of what? Confusion? Fright? Jealousy? he feels when Dean one night when Castiel arrives has another man in his bed, takes Castiel by surprise. They’re both asleep but just the unfamiliar sight of someone else with Dean is making Castiel sick and he wants to leave, now, immediately but it’s like his healed wings have stopped working. He stands and he stares. It is a good thing, he tells himself, that Dean trusts someone like this. At least, it should be. But Castiel doesn’t like how Dean lay with his arm hooked around someone else's torso, nose pressed in their hair. It’s entirely selfish and Castiel whole heartedly wishes that he didn’t wish for it to be himself in the other man’s place.Or the one where Castiel watches Dean sleep, and gets super jealous as Dean stops doing it alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> look, i wrote some destiel. where the hell did that come from

When all is settled Castiel leaves for Heaven. It isn’t permanent, so it’s not like he has to but the brother’s waves him off, not  _ happy  _ about it maybe. Just. Not enough  _ unhappy  _ about it to ask him to stay. If they would’ve asked, if Dean would’ve asked, Castiel would’ve said “screw you” to Heaven in a heart beat. Dean doesn’t. What Castiel does instead is keeping an eye on them. Especially Dean, like it feels like he’s always done. Always is somehow a decade, when he’s lived for a great many years yet he doesn’t feel like he really started  _ living  _ before he pulled Dean out of Hell. And all Castiel does is a quick and harmless rendezvous down to earth, in the middle of the night, just so see that Dean is sleeping alright, that he isn’t dead in a ditch, that he’s fine. He is, mostly. Sometimes he tosses and turns, sometimes he even whines in his sleep but in the big picture, there’s nothing wrong. 

It takes a while but then one night there is the smell of perfume in the air, something Dean wouldn’t use, something of a woman and Castiel doesn’t think much of it; Dean is a man with needs just as any other. It happens a few times, sometimes weeks in between and Castiel just keeps watches him sleep, not for a long time each time but for a little while. Sort of like a private status report because the small prayers Dean sometimes send him isn’t much to go by. “We’re fine down here, hope your angel ass is doing good in the city of lights”. Castiel still hasn’t responded to any of these prayers, he thinks it best not to interfere too much with the Winchesters, because they will probably just be pulled back into all of this angel business as Dean calls it and they don’t seem super keen on having Castiel back. 

The pang of… yeah, of what? Confusion? Fright? Jealousy? he feels when Dean one night when Castiel arrives has another man in his bed, takes Castiel by surprise. They’re both asleep but just the unfamiliar sight of someone else  _ with  _ Dean is making Castiel sick and he wants to leave, now, immediately but it’s like his healed wings have stopped working. He stands and he stares. It is a good thing, he tells himself, that Dean trusts someone like this. That he’s worked through enough of his issues to confess and act on his attraction to men, even if Castiel has never really understood why that was a problem to begin with. It is good, anyhow. Dean like this. At least, it should be. But Castiel doesn’t like how Dean lay with his arm hooked around someone else's torso, nose pressed in their hair. It’s entirely selfish and Castiel whole heartedly wishes that he didn’t wish for it to be himself in the other man’s place. 

When Castiel comes back the next night, Dean is alone and Castiel draws a small sigh of relief. Maybe that was a one night sort of thing, as it has been with the women and the perfume before. 

But it isn’t. The black haired man returns within the week, sprawling on the bed like he owns it and Dean just… lets him. It’s disturbing. As it is, Dean’s prayers have lengthened. Sometimes he sits for almost an hour, just talking to Castiel like he’s there and responsive. Castiel doesn’t know what to do with it, so he just listens, savories every word and feels how his permanent heart beat grows faster as Dean says his name (“That’s right, Cas, seven vamps by himself!” and he tries his best to ignore the reoccurring feeling that he should be somewhere else than Heaven all the time. He shouldn’t be in Lebanon, Kansas. But damned, if he wants to. 

It is one evening in November when Dean bitch about Castiel never coming to visit. He says that a best friend should at least make an effort to remain best friend and Castiel plops himself down in the bunker, opposite Dean at their dinner table. Dean looks like he’s seen a ghost as Castiel says “Hello, Dean” before his whole face cracks to a smile and he stands, practically skips around the table and hugs Castiel harder than ever. And Castiel hugs him back, ferociously and with as much feeling as he can because this is one the few touches between them that are allowed, and they are sacred. 

“It’s good to have you back, buddy,” Dean says and he lets go of Castiel after an inappropriate amount of time. Castiel nods, at loss of words and they sit down, talks, jokes a little and after a while, Dean trails off and goes silent. Castiel doesn’t mind silence, so he just goes with it, but Dean seems skittish. 

“You do know I…” Dean says and it looks like it takes him a high amount of effort to do so. He indicates between the two of them and Castiel swallows. He means as a brother, as family. 

“Of course,” he says, frowning because Dean has done it abundantly clear before. Of course Castiel knows. “I love you too, Dean.” And Dean gives him tight smiles and only says “yeah”, more to himself than anything else. It’s like they know the visit is over with that because they both excuse themselves not long after. 

In the wee hours of the night, Castiel returns and for the first time Dean is awake. He is also not alone. Thank heaven for invisibility. The scene that plays out is not one Castiel would’ve imagined, because first and foremost, Dean is crying. In front of a man that isn’t family, by blood or choice, and it makes Castiel almost  _ proud  _ that he is. Except for the fact that, you know, the other man in his bed that doesn’t have a shirt on and is trying to console him. 

“Dean…” he says, hand on Dean’s knee and Dean’s gaze snaps up to the other man’s eyes, fierce and sad at the same time. 

“Shut up, Ryan,” he says. “Do not say my name like that.” It is almost scary how cold his voice sounds, when just a few hours ago Castiel had heard it silky and warm.  _ Ryan  _ doesn’t look offended, he simply adjusts on the bed, pulling a naked foot underneath his only-boxers-covered-bum. 

“It’s okay,” he only says.

Dean laughs short. “Yeah, well I’m not.” Ryan leans forward to kiss Dean’s temple and then they’re hugging. It’s gross. Castiel wants to separate the with the powers of his mind but it seems this is what Dean needs and whatever Dean needs for survival and happiness, is not something Castiel can take away from him. He’s been selfish enough. 

The words “Cas, I need you” has Castiel going in a blink of an eye. He is in the middle of some serious angel business but as Dean’s lips form the words, Castiel is gone. He doesn’t really understand what is going on once he reaches Dean’s room because everything is quiet, there is no intrusion in the bunker (there’s not even a sign of  _ Ryan _ ) and Dean is sleeping. Castiel walks up to his bed, leaning down to his head, whispering Dean’s name, in case there  _ would  _ be something he missed. Dean opens his eyes, groggily.

“Is this a dream?” He asks and Castiel frowns. He’s heard it’s best to agree with people who isn’t really awake so he says “yes?”. 

“Good,” Dean says and then his hands are on either side of Castiel’s face and he’s pushing him down, just a little and their lips meet. Castiel has kissed before. He hasn’t kissed Dean. The difference between the two are ginormous; Dean’s mouth on his makes him almost squirm, his arms go numb, his knees weak, because all blood in his body either goes to his face or his middle. If this was a dream, it would be Castiel’s personal heaven. Dean manages to interpose a “c'mere” while he takes a breath and Castiel realises he mean  _ into bed  _ and if his heart could stop, it would’ve. He eases down into the bed, trench coat and shoes still on, and Dean gives him a peck before nuzzling into his chest. The hunter is humming and Castiel awkwardly places his arms around his shoulder, like he’s seen Ryan and Dean do before. It feels like he’s taken advantage. He doesn’t know how to stop. 

“Get you feathery ass down here, I’ve got beer.” 

Castiel doesn’t care much for beer, but he takes one as Dean’s hands it over; after they’ve hugged out their “hello”. Castiel looks a lot at his bottle, because it means he doesn’t look at Dean’s hands or his face, or the way he puckers his lips before taking a swing. He stays rather quiet because it means he won’t slip and say “you kissed me” or “it wasn’t a dream” when Dean tells him he dreamt of him the other night. What he asks instead, is “what did we do?” and Dean coughs and shrugs a shoulder.

“Nothing much. Just, you were there.” Castiel supposes it’s not really a lie. Kissing might just be as “meh” to Dean, like beer is to Castiel. There’s nothing wrong with that. Castiel had just hoped it was something Dean might consider doing a bit more awake. 

“Is Ryan a friend?” Castiel asks one time that Dean has called him down to earth once again. The other man has been staying with Dean for far too many nights to be something other than a lover, but Castiel would like to keep his hopes up anyway. And it’s not like he’s supposed to know who Ryan is anyway, so this might be the best way to bring it up.

“What? How do you know about Ryan?” Dean looks flustered and almost drops the book he was fetching. 

Castiel shrugs and lies. “Sam told me.” 

“That little,” Dean says and puts down the book and slouches in his chair. He throws his hands into the air and says that Ryan is a friend, yes, but it’s different from him and Cas. 

“How?” Castiel knows. He wants to hear it anyhow. He wants to have his heart crushed by words of confirmation.

“I can’t believe I’m explaining this fucked up friendship to an angel,” Dean mutters and goes to get himself a glass of whiskey, offering one to Castiel that he turns down.

“Fucked up friendship?” He says instead. 

“It’s like…” Dean says and then he stops, scratching the back of his head and downs the liquor. “I sleep with him, okay? He’s my friend and we sleep together.” 

“So like, a boyfriend?” Castiel asks quietly and Dean shakes his head.

“No,” he denies, even though it’s pretty clear to Castiel that that is exactly what it is.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel says, trying his damned hardest not to choke on the words. “It’s not a problem.” It is, though. Castiel wants to smite this Ryan because he has something,  _ someone _ , that Castiel wants for himself and he feels so guilty for feeling it because this is what Dean wants, this must be someone who makes Dean happy and that should be all Castiel need to be happy himself. It’s not. 

“No, but Cas... He’s not my boyfriend. We’re not a couple. We… we just… kind of… are there for each other in another way.” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t like the sound of his own words. 

“With sex,” Castiel confirms. 

“Why are we talking about Ryan again?” Dean says and Castiel looks down at the table. Because Castiel have been watching them share a bed for weeks and Dean has not once mentioned Ryan to him, like he’s kept him a secret and Castiel doesn’t know why. Dean prays to him almost every day again and he couldn’t find it in him to mention his…  _ whatever _ even once? Maybe he’s being down promoted as friend, if Dean doesn’t even want to tell him about this. 

  


Dean isn’t in his bed when Castiel drops down, and neither is Ryan. At first, Castiel’s gut turns sour and he means to go find him, but then he hears shuffling steps outside the door and he realises humans has bodily functions, even at night. He doesn’t miss them in the slightest. 

“Cas?” Dean asks as he enters the room, closing the door behind him. Castiel hadn’t even thought about concealing himself again after the initial shock of Dean being gone, and now he stares at Dean for a second before saying “you’re dreaming”. 

“Oh, okay,” Dean says and leans back against the door. The sight of him is devilish; with cut and scarred skin, dotted by millions of freckles, his hair in an absolute bundle after half a night’s sleep, his lips parted as well as his legs and Castiel finds himself moving forward, close, and finally press himself to him. Dean doesn’t appear surprised, he only throws his arms around Castiel’s neck and presses back, groaning slightly as Castiel kisses him. They keep it up for a few sweet minutes, then Dean takes Castiel’s hand and he leads him to the bed. Castiel stops and Dean’s face falters. 

“Don’t go,” he whispers, desperately, and he grabs Castiel’s hand harder. 

“You have to sleep,” Castiel says roughly, pulling away, though staying is all he wants to do. 

“You said I already were.” And Dean’s gaze locks on his, steady but still somehow quivering. “Cas?” He says, the word barely audible and Castiel feels the panic rise.

“Dean…” he says and Dean comes up to him once more, fingers shooting out to touch his face.

“Cas,” Dean breathes and Castiel thinks of it as no use to deny.

“Yes?” He says. 

“You motherfu-” and the rest of the word is lost in Castiel’s mouth as Dean presses their lips together again. It is different now, then the other times. This is so much more, this is so much better. This is Dean kissing Castiel because it is Castiel rather than Dean kissing what he thought was dreamt up version of him and Castiel must wonder how many times Dean has kissed  _ real- _ dream-Castiels. This is more desperate and more grounded, it is more of everything. Dean then lets him go, eyes almost bleary and he slips between his covers, indicating for Castiel to join him. 

“Ey, ey, clothes, buddy,” Dean says when Castiel attempts to do so, and Castiel finds that it’s the first time since he got his grace back that he’s undressing. The mechanics of it comes naturally now, but he feels exposed without his coat, his jacket, his shirt, his shoes, his socks. Dean sucks in a breath as he stares while Castiel gets his pants off and Castiel looks down at his body. It’s nothing with it really. But Dean looks at him like he’s pie and it makes him blush. It is Castiel’s body after all. Finally, he’s allowed into bed and Dean just runs his hands over his body, like he must make sure it’s really there. It’s endearing, so Castiel does the same to Dean’s and the other man goosebumps and laughs nervously. 

“You should sleep,” Castiel says and Dean nods. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Dean turns around, fits himself against Castiel and Castiel carefully puts his arm around Dean’s body. He’s back to humming slightly and Castiel’s heart swells at the sound. They’ve both just found this and yet it is easy. Once Dean has settled, breathing steadying out, he draws a large breath before he says, “I don’t have sex with Ryan.” 

“Okay.” 

“I have sex with others, sometimes, but I don’t take them here.” 

“Okay.”

“He… he’s been helping me sleep. Just knowing someone is there, it’s…” And Castiel thinks of all the times he’s been standing by Dean’s bed, figuring that Dean must be well enough because he is still alive. How his standards are so low that survival beats everything else. 

“I’ve come to see that you’ve been okay every night since I left,” he says anyway.  

“Creeper,” Dean says but his voice sounds of laughter. He’s quiet for a while, only his breaths filling the room and Castiel thinks he will never be able to get enough of just that. 

Dean clears his throat. “Maybe you could start… I mean, since you’re already…”

Castiel tightens his grip around Dean’s waist. “Of course, Dean. Anything, everything.” 

Dean snorts.”Should’ve kissed a little earlier.” 

Castiel kisses his neck. “We did,” he confesses and Dean looks over his shoulder and asks how many times Cas has come here to make out and just told Dean it was a dream. 

“About seventeen,” he jokes but Dean first takes him seriously and he has to explain. Jokes are never funny when you have to explain. But when Dean falls asleep with his lips comically pressed to Castiel’s hand, he thinks that the joke is on the world because Castiel gets this beautiful specimen and the rest just have to settle for someone else. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my stuff? [Buy me a coffee!](https://www.buymeacoffee.com/mee4ever)


End file.
